For the Love of the Game
by Dorrica
Summary: "You're not going Turbo, are you?" His name became nothing more than a metaphor, a warning to all characters of the gaming world of what can happen if anyone was foolish enough to go against their program. It was a name synonymous with rogue, stupidity, selfishness, and above all, tragedy. Just how did it lead up to all this?
1. Prologue: Welcome to Life

**Title:** For the Love of the Game  
**Summary:** "You're not going Turbo, are you?" His name became nothing more than a metaphor, a warning to all characters of the gaming world of what can happen if anyone was foolish enough to go against their program. It was a name synonymous with rogue, stupidity, selfishness, and above all, tragedy. Just how did it lead up to all this?  
**Rating:** K+ ( for character death and mild violence)  
**Disclaimer:** The film "Wreck-It Ralph" and its characters are property of Disney. I make no profit from these writings.  
**Author's Note:** Okay, I should point out that this is a tie-in story to "Memento of Humanity". However, this can work as a standalone fic, so you don't necessarily have to read that story to understand this one, but I would honestly recommend it.

* * *

"_A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it." _- Jean de La Fontaine

* * *

Prologue:  
**Welcome to Life**

_Litwak's Arcade, 1981_

A plug was inserted into a vacant outlet. The console hummed, and the screen flickered.

It was a strange feeling, coming to life for the first time. Curious, yellow eyes blinked and scanned the surroundings of the strange, new world, which had only existed for five seconds, just like him. He _knew _where he was. He knew who _he _was, and yet he couldn't help but stare in wonder at the pixilated world. He wanted to take in every little detail of it.

A hand suddenly touched his shoulder and he jumped, spinning around to face the character, who stared back at him with evident amusement. "A bit jumpy, aren't you?" The blue-clad character glanced around the new surroundings and smiled contently. "Pretty exciting, isn't it, Turbo?"

Yes, that's right. That was his name - Turbo. He couldn't forget, as it was in his programming. Still, the overwhelming feeling of being plugged in for the first time made him briefly lose sight of his own identity. The NPC chuckled as the star racer, who was a couple of inches shorter in height, continued to stare back at him, mouth agape. "We should probably head to the garage, huh?"

Turbo shook himself out of his daze and gave a quick nod. The blue-clad racer led the way, while Turbo trotted closely behind him, whipping his head back and forth as he continued to take in the new surroundings with an expression resembling that of a young child. The two racers walked into the open, three-car garage, where they found a third racer, identical to the one dressed in blue. Turbo still couldn't understand why he was in awe of their presence. He _knew _who they were, after all. He supposed it was just all a part of the newness of the situation. They had been alive for…what was it? Forty-five seconds now?

"They should be lining up any second now," the NPC who had first spoken to him stated calmly. Turbo snapped his head in his direction, as though he had actually forgotten he had been standing there.

"They?" Turbo asked, prompting the NPC to laugh again.

"Yeah, the kids."

"Oh, yeah!" Turbo exclaimed with realization.

"It's gonna be awesome!" the other twin shouted excitedly, already behind the wheel of his blue race car. Turbo just blinked at him before slowly turning his head to stare out into the open.

"Are you all right?" the more laid back twin asked suddenly. "You look like you're going to be sick."

The protagonist shifted his weight from foot to foot. 'Well…I'm just…"

"Nervous?"

"Yeah…kinda." The racer twiddled his thumbs. "I mean, what if…What if they don't like me?"

The slightly taller racer smiled confidently. "Trust me, they're going to love you."

Turbo tried to force a smile. "Thanks…ugh…" The racer blinked at the NPC in slight alarm. "Sorry, for some reason I don't remember your name."

The Challenger continued smiling. "That's because I don't have one."

"Oh."

"You can call me One if you like."

Still smiling, the NPC turned and headed for his car, revealing a large, white number '1' on the back of his jumpsuit. Turbo shot a glance to the other twin, figuring he probably had a number on his suit as well, the only source of identification they seemed to have. But the protagonist didn't think he'd need to depend on their numbers to tell them apart. They may have looked alike, but their personalities seemed quite different.

The Good Guy's eyes suddenly settled on the red car in the center of the garage, which gleamed in the soft light that seeped through the windows. He ran over and hopped into the seat, wiggling around until he was comfortable and gripping the steering wheel tightly. Without hesitation, he started the engine, which seemed to ignite his enthusiasm as it rattled his entire frame. It was as though his coding was finally beginning to stir, and he couldn't wait to get on that track.

Suddenly, there came the startling sound of a bell ringing, which made Turbo jump slightly and look around frantically. His programmed knowledge of the game quickly acknowledged the noise as a quarter alert.

"It's show time!" the twin who identified himself as One stated excitedly, firing up his engine. He shot a glance to the protagonist beside him. "Ready?"

Turbo nodded and made sure his helmet was secure before mashing his foot on the gas. His colleagues were right behind him, making their way to the track. They all lined up on the track, their cars aligning perfectly with each other.

_3.…_

_2..._

_1..._

The three characters hit the gas simultaneously, their back wheels spinning rapidly and kicking up dirt. They tore across the track, the two Challengers taking a short lead. Turbo was limited in his abilities, as it was the gamer at the console who had control over him. But once the boy got a feel for the game, he was able to maneuver Turbo around the twins and take the lead. The pale racer grinned like an idiot the entire time, hardly caring as the wind whipped across his face painfully.

He won the first level easily, but that was to be expected as there were no obstacles to slow him down, but once he found himself on level two, he knew there would be more of a challenge. His coded knowledge immediately alerted him to the fact that there would be oil slicks dotting the track, which would cause his car to spin off the track and slow him down. The two Challengers weaved around the oil slicks easily, never hitting a single one, as they were programmed to always avoid them. The gamer managed to maneuver the character around the obstacles with ease, crossing the finish line and entering the third and final level.

_Okay…now watch out for ducks _and _oil slicks._

The racer had to wonder what in the world the programmers were thinking when they put the game together. Sure, it was great to have obstacles, but ducks? Seriously? The little buggers were programmed to waddle across the track, quacking rather loudly to alert the gamers of their presence. Unlike the oil slicks, the ducks were a moving obstacle, and sometimes they would change direction, making it challenging to avoid them.

'_All right, there's one. Wait…No, no, don't you do it!' _

_QUACK!_

Pixilated feathers suddenly flew everywhere as his car hit the bird head on. _'You had to do it, didn't you?' _Turbo sighed as his car slowed down slightly. The child had clearly hit the duck on purpose, thinking it'd be funny, though certainly not funny for that poor duck. It was a good thing it instantly regenerated.

Having had his fun, the child finally got serious about the game and regained his lost speed, avoiding all the obstacles with ease. Luckily, the twins hadn't had an opportunity to take the advantage and so they remained a short distance behind. The checkered finish line stepped into his line of vision and Turbo's excitement escalated. Crossing the finish line, the faceless crowd in the stands bounced up and down excitedly while Turbo gave a thumbs up to the gamer.

"This game is so cool!" the little boy chirped excitedly, beaming through the screen. This made the Good Guy's chest swell with pride as he took his place on the first place platform. A trophy immediately materialized in his hand and he found himself smiling proudly, offering another thumbs up.

"Turbo-tastic!" his programming prompted him to say. As the child departed from the console, the three characters relaxed a bit, One looking over to smile at the overly-excited racer.

"See? What did I tell you?"

The racer's grin widened even more as he looked down at his very first trophy, locking eyes with his own reflection.

"And that's just the first kid," One added. "There'll be plenty more where that came from." The second Challenger, who had a number '2' displayed on the back of his jumpsuit, hopped down from his third place platform and grinned madly up at his colleagues.

"We're gonna be the best game in the whole arcade!" he cheered. Hearing this seemed to excite Turbo even further.

"You think so?"

"It doesn't matter whose game is the most popular," One interjected. "We're just here to make the kids happy. Remember that."

Stepping down from the platform, he nodded for his co-workers to follow him back to their cars. "Come on. More kids will probably be lining up soon."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Okay, I hadn't planned on posting this story so soon. I would have preferred to complete the whole thing first, but I decided to post it early to commemorate my 10 year anniversary here at FFN. I still can't believe it's been a decade since I joined. But since this story isn't complete, updates might be kind of slow. I want to use the time between updates to get more done, and I have a job as well, so that kind of slows things down. In fact, it might be a week or more before chapter 2 is posted.

Another thing about this story…it was originally supposed to be a one-shot. Seriously, just a one-shot, maybe a couple thousand words longer than "Memento of Humanity". But then 2,000 words turned into 5,000 words…and by the time I reached 11,000 words, I STILL wasn't done. Not only that, as I was writing the story, I found myself falling in love with the relationship between Throttle and Turbo. Well, my interpretation of their relationship at least. I wanted to further expand on it, because there was really only one scene in the original one-shot where they had a strong interaction, and it was during that scene that I was sort of won over on the idea of taking the story further.

So anyway, I'm a little nervous about posting this story, as there are a few elements to it that I'm very unsure of. Going against my first instinct to make this a one-shot also has me worried that the story will end up falling flat. And I already feel like I'm kidding myself when I read gems like "It's Only Programmed" and "Ghost Boy". But I know I shouldn't compare myself to other authors. I guess the readers will ultimately be the judge.

Oh yeah, and Turbo's game has ducks! Just like Fix-It Felix! Why? Because you just can't trust a duck :D


	2. Knock-Off

Chapter I:  
**Knock-Off**

Turbo had been enjoying himself so much that closing time had come before he knew it. Needless to say, he didn't want to give any of it up, but as One had said, tomorrow was another day. Even so, the racer wasn't the least bit tired, and he knew he'd have to find something to do now that the quarters had stopped coming. He could have easily just kept racing around the track, which probably would have been even more enjoyable now that he was in full control again, but curiosity got the better of him and he decided to take a quick trip outside his game.

The racer had thought his day would only get better as he stepped out into Game Central Station for the first time, but a person's luck had to run out at some point, and Turbo quickly discovered that the people moseying about in the station had no intention of rolling out the welcome wagon. He was shoved around repeatedly, while simultaneously being made fun of because of his strange appearance. But none of that compared to the moment when his felt his helmet being yanked from his scalp amongst an onslaught of cruel laughter.

"Hey! Give that back!" the racer shouted angrily as he tried to lunge for the helmet, but it was passed back and forth between characters before he could so much as lay a finger on it.

"Hey, what does the 'T' stand for?" one character laughed, tossing the helmet as the racer made another move to grab for it.

"I'll bet it stands for 'Too Slow' another character laughed as he caught the headgear.

Turbo whipped his head around to glare at him. "Well, you'd know a lot about being slow, wouldn't you?!" he spat, cheeks burning as he tried to look as menacing as possible.

"Ooooh, look who thinks he's clever. How cute. Go ahead and give the baby his bonnet back."

The other bully laughed as he tossed Turbo his helmet, who fumbled with it slightly. The racer snarled at him as he placed it back on his head, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Welcome to the arcade, newbie."

The abusers departed, finally giving the racer peace. He maintained his scowl even as they left, giving everyone clear warning not to provoke him again, including an odd-looking, orange-colored character, who floated toward him with sympathetic eyes. "Don't take it personally," he said calmly. "A lot of people here like to give the newbies a hard time. It'll pass." The little ghost-like character floated away, disappearing into a game called Pac-Man. Turbo relaxed somewhat, but the damage was already done. His good mood was gone, and all he wanted to do at that point was return to his game and likely never come out. Or at least wait until another game was plugged in.

Not too far away, another character, dressed in a bright, canary yellow body suit and wielding a large gun, was studying him curiously. "Hey, Ral, check this out!" he called, waving a much smaller character over to him eagerly. Once said character had sauntered up to him, the suited character pointed towards Turbo and grinned. "Check it out. Like lookin' in a mirror, ain't it?"

The small protagonist looked over at the white-clad racer and scoffed, crossing his arms. "Give me a break, Fred. He looks nothing like me. He's hideous, in fact."

"Trust me, Rally, he's got more in common with you than ya think. I've got a good view of his console from mine. I'm _telling _ya, man, whoever designed his game totally ripped yours off."

Rally's eyes darkened. "How so?"

"Man, same letter style, similar cabinet art! It's pretty obvious. You'll have to look at it for yourself."

"And what's the name of this little runt's game?"

"TurboTime."

A fiendish smirk tugged at the corner of Rally's lips. "Well, then, I suppose I'll just have to drop by and give him a nice, warm welcome."

0ooooooo0

After having experienced such an extensive amount of abuse during his first day in the arcade, Turbo decided to play it safe for a while and just remain grounded in his own game. What was the point in leaving his game if everyone intended to act like a bunch of jerks? It's not like there was anything out there to keep him entertained anyway.

"Are you all right?" One finally asked after continuous silence from the star racer. Turbo had busied himself with gently buffing his car with a dry rag, but it was clear his heart wasn't in it. In fact, he had been buffing the same spot for the last five minutes, and he would pause off and on, as though he were drifting off in thought.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he mumbled.

"Don't worry about it!" Two chimed in cheerfully, pulling his gaze away from the engine of his car and wiping his greasy hands on a dirty towel. "I'll betcha they're just jealous! We probably stole all their quarters yesterday!"

This seemed to bring the faintest smile to the racer's face.

"I should have gone with you," One sighed. Turbo shrugged.

"It's okay. I think they were just acting like jerks because I'm new. They probably do it to everyone."

"So what if you're new?" One replied sternly. "That's not an excuse to treat you like that."

Turbo shrugged again, head lowering slightly, but the subject wasn't discussed any further, much to the racer's relief.

Two suddenly slammed the hood of his car shut, looking pleased with his work. "Well, she's all clean now! Inside and out! I even scrubbed the pistons!"

One snorted. "We've been plugged in for barely two days. How dirty could that engine possibly be?"

Turbo's face suddenly split into a wide grin. "That's it!" he shouted with enthusiastic excitement, jumping to his feet and startling his colleagues.

"What's it? What's going on?!" Two replied, looking around frantically. The star racer smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry. I just figured out what your name should be."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Your _name! _I went to bed last night trying to decide what I wanted to call you two. I mean, I can't just keep calling you guys 'One' and 'Two'. Those are things someone does in a bathroom."

Two immediately started snickering behind his hand, while One simply rolled his eyes.

"When you mentioned pistons just then, it hit me that _that's _what your name should be - Piston. It works, don't you think?"

The Challenger blinked. "Piston?"

"Yeah, why not?" Turbo replied with a shrug, smiling crookedly. "I mean, my name's Turbo. You know, like a turbocharger! Piston fits with the theme, don't you think?"

"So basically, you want to name us after parts of a car?" One asked with a chuckle, not really embracing the idea at first, but Two, now dubbed 'Piston', crossed his arms and gave a smug grin.

"Well, I like it." The newly named Challenger looked to his twin quizzically. "So what do we call him? I know! How about Crankshaft?!" he suggested with a giggle.

"Yeah, call me that, and I'll throttle you."

"AHA!" Turbo shouted as he spun around to point a finger at his co-worker, who jumped back as he slapped a hand over his chest.

"Geez, will you stop doing that?!" he scolded.

"That's it! Throttle!" Turbo declared, ignoring his co-worker's complaint. "You know, like an accelerator! Yep, I'm a genius!" The protagonist smiled proudly, placing his hands on his hips as he waited for his co-worker's response. The NPC blinked for a moment, but he soon gave a smile of approval.

"Sure, why not? I suppose it's better than having numbers for names." The newly named character casually leaned against the hood of his car and crossed his arms. "I like it."

Turbo's grin only widened as he knelt before his car again to continue his buffing, feeling quite proud of himself. However, the lightened mood turned heavy again as an unfamiliar figure stepped into the garage, hardly looking pleased as his icy blue eyes scanned over each racer. "Well, well, what do we have here?" he asked scornfully, his attention mostly directed at Turbo, who glanced over his shoulder at Piston. The Challenger glanced at him briefly and shrugged before looking back to the intruder. For a moment, Turbo considered the possibility that this was just another bully who had the nerve to actually come to his game to taunt him, but he dismissed it almost immediately. Somehow he knew this was something more.

Throttle didn't alter his position, his expression becoming quite stoic as he carefully studied the foreign character who was trespassing in their game. Turbo slowly rose to his feet and dropped the rag on the hood of his car, eying the new arrival with suspicion.

"What in the name of Namco is _this _abomination?"

The strange character, dressed in a green jumpsuit and white helmet, approached the star racer with an accusing gaze. "So it looks like we have a knock-off in our midst."

Turbo almost took a step back at that.

"What'd you mean 'knock-off'? Who are you?"

"Ever heard of a little game called Rally-X?" the character replied. Turbo simply shook his head, brows furrowing. "Well that's too bad, considering you're only here _because _of me, you little imitation."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Okay, first things first. I would just like to apologize for the extremely short length of this chapter. Believe me, I'm usually never one to post chapters less than 3,000 words but the reason for this chapter's short length is because the first few chapters of this story are already written, and as a result, it makes it extremely difficult to figure out the appropriate place to split the chapters. I could have cut this chapter off further along, but the ending might have been a little awkward. The next chapter WILL be longer, though.

Now then…I should point out that we are now getting into one of the elements of the story that I'm unsure about, and that's the incorporation of Rally-X, which IS a real game, in case some didn't know, though I doubt that. Anyway, it's my understanding that Rally-X was the inspiration for TurboTime. And before I even started writing this story, I had already had this little idea in my mind about Rally-X being a real game that existed in the WIR universe, and Turbo's game kind of spawned as a result of it, creating some ironic conflict between him and his counterpart. It was just sort of a lulzy idea that I didn't really think I'd even attempt, but then when I started considering the idea to take this story further, I knew I'd need to come up with an idea for some conflict, and so I immediately started rethinking the Rally-X plot point.

But here's the reason I'm uneasy about it…it's a real game! And I sort of feel funny about portraying a real game negatively. I feel like it's a slap in the face to the game's creators lol. Although, the Rally-X game as it's portrayed in this story isn't 100% accurate. The actual game doesn't have any characters that you can play, it's a just a blue racecar that you guide through a maze. Rally's description is based off the game's cabinet art, but the character himself doesn't exist in the real game. Although I think he _was_ created into a real avatar in an updated version of the game.

Also, regarding the twins, I'd just like to point out once again that the name Throttle has already been used a few times. I just really liked the name and decided to go with it. The name 'Piston', however, _was _my idea and as far as I can tell, I've never seen it used. I just prefer naming them after car parts XD And Ted and Teddy were just way too fanon for my liking, anyway.

Oh, and on a final note, the character Fred was actually one of the shooters from the 1980 arcade game, Wizard of Wor.


	3. Rally's Challenge

Chapter II:  
**Rally's Challenge**

At first the racer stared back at the trespasser in complete disbelief, but he soon clenched his fists and took a step towards the foreign character, who was almost equal to him in height. "Look, I don't know what you're talking about! You've got a lot of nerve coming into _my_ game and insulting me!"

"And you've got a lot of nerve even existing. Take a good look at my cabinet when you get the chance. The similarities are uncanny. And if you think for a second you're going to come into my arcade and stand on my shoulders, you've got another thing coming."

"_Your_ arcade?" Piston snapped.

Rally crossed his arms and shot the Challenger an icy glare. "Yes, that's right. I've been here since the doors first opened."

"We're all a part of this arcade, you jerk! And…And your helmet's stupid!"

Rally rolled his eyes at the immaturity of the Challenger's words. "Oh, just shut up, NPC."

"Hey! I've got a name, you know! Of course…I didn't have one a few minutes ago but-"

Turbo pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please just stop talking," he hissed.

Rally returned his gaze to the protagonist, smirking suddenly. "You know, if they were going to rip my game off, they could have at least tried a little harder. You're certainly not much to look at. Only thing worse than a knock-off is a poorly-attempted knock-off."

Quiet chuckles suddenly filled the garage, and everyone's attention migrated over to Throttle, who had remained silent up until this point. Rally's gaze slowly hardened. "And just what is so funny?"

"_You_, fool," Throttle replied coolly as he lifted his head to lock eyes with the racer. "I've seen your game, actually. We've got a good view of it from our vantage point, and you know, I gotta say, you talk pretty big for someone whose game uses Pac-Man hardware."

Piston's eyes widened and he immediately glanced at Turbo, who also looked alarmed and somewhat impressed by his colleague's retort.

"For your information," Rally began through clenched teeth, "our games were made by the same programmers, so it's _hardly_ plagiarism."

The corner of Throttle's mouth lifted in a confident smirk. "That may be so, but it also means your game is _hardly_ unique. So what right do you have to look down your oversized nose at us?"

Piston's hands immediately flew to his mouth as he struggled to contain his laughter, while Turbo just continued to stare in amazement, his gaze shifting back and forth between the characters and wondering if perhaps their exchange would turn physical.

"Oh, sorry, did I hit a code?" Throttle added smugly, grinning in satisfaction as he saw Rally's eyes flare with rage. Turbo cringed slightly and braced himself as the foreign character marched over to his co-worker, who didn't back down in the slightest.

"Who do you think you are?" he snarled.

"Who do you think _you_ are? Waltzing into our game, strutting around like you own the place and then spitting at our feet! Well, I'm not having it! Look, bottom line is sometimes games imitate other games! It's nothing new! But that's not our fault, and besides, our game's style is still different from yours, so stop getting your data in a bunch. It's not worth it. At the end of the day, we all have the same job, and that's providing entertainment for the kids out there," Throttle affirmed as he pointed outside towards the game's screen. "So why don't you just go back to your game and do your job and let us do ours."

Rally's jaw clenched, and he glanced sharply at the other two racers, who were both looking back at him with notable amusement. He quickly approached Turbo again, who took a step back in slight alarm. "Just stay out of my way, knock-off. You got it?" he growled, lifting a hand to jab a finger into his chest, but at that very moment, a gray hand seemed to shoot out of nowhere and grab Rally's firmly.

"Don't. Touch him," came Throttle's threatening demand, which startled Rally slightly and only seemed to excite Piston even further. Rally pulled against the NPC's grip in an attempt to free his hand, but it didn't loosen in the slightest. "Get out of our game." With that said, Throttle finally released his grip and Rally stumbled back, almost landing on his rear. Glaring daggers at the trio, he turned and exited the garage without another word. "Jackass," Throttle murmured.

"THAT WAS AWESOME!" Piston shouted excitedly, bouncing around like a child. "You totally leveled him! Did you see the look on his face?! CLASSIC! I thought he was going to pee his pants!"

Ignoring his twin's excited jabber, Throttle turned to glance at Turbo, whose gaze had fallen to the floor. "Are you all right?"

The protagonist slowly looked up, his mouth fixed in a deep frown. "Is it true?" he asked softly. "Are we really just…a knock-off?"

Throttle sighed, placing a hand on the racer's shoulder. "Don't listen to what that idiot said, all right? So what if we are? Does it really matter?"

"But…doesn't this mean we're not unique? I just thought-"

"Turbo, like I said, our game isn't an exact copy of his. We're still an entirely different game. You think the kids are going to care? You're a great racer, and the kids adore you. That's all that matters."

"I guess," Turbo sighed as he shuffled his way out of the garage. Throttle urged Piston to go ahead after him while he locked up the garage for the night. The trio didn't speak much after that once they entered their quaint little home. They washed up, had dinner and ultimately retired for the night. Turbo had a room to himself, while Throttle and Piston shared a room. But rather than retire immediately to bed like Piston had, Throttle felt compelled to enter Turbo's room to check on him again.

"Turbo?" Opening the door, light poured into the room, falling upon the small protagonist, who had already crawled under the covers, his jumpsuit and shoes discarded on the floor after having changed into his pajamas.

"You don't have to say it again, I know, okay?" the racer mumbled as he poked his head out from under the covers and sat up. Throttle grinned, leaning against the frame.

"Which was?"

The protagonist fumbled with one of the red buttons on his pajamas. "That I shouldn't listen to that jerk," he sighed.

"Good," Throttle replied, giving a nod. "That little creep is probably just worried you're going to steal his thunder. And personally, I hope you do."

The racer forced a smiled as he looked down at his hands.

"Now go ahead and get some sleep. The arcade opens in eight hours."

After the racer settled back down under the covers, Throttle quietly closed the door, pausing in the hallway briefly as he once again recalled what had happened earlier. His fists clenched as he willed away another wave of anger, reminding himself that it wasn't worth getting upset over. He shuffled back to the bedroom he shared with his twin and quietly crawled into bed, glaring up at the ceiling. It wasn't long before he heard the ruffling of sheets and the shifting of weight on the mattress across from him. "Why are you angry?" a voice asked quietly in the dark.

"I'm not angry," the NPC lied.

"Yes, you are. I could feel it before you even walked into the room," Piston asserted. Throttle slowly turned to look at him, seeing nothing but a set of somber, yellow eyes glowing softly in the dark.

"What do you mean you _felt_ it?"

"I mean I could feel it! You're upset, and I can feel it right now!"

Two sets of glowing eyes stared back at each other for the longest time. What exactly did that mean?

0ooooooo0

The days came and went without much activity. Quarters poured in by the minute, and the three racers did their jobs with joyous smiles, Turbo especially, who took home trophy after trophy. The feeling of pride never deflated, though Rally's words still lingered in he back of his mind. But Turbo simply used his words as fuel to prove him wrong. Knock-off or not, he was going to be the best racer that ever existed.

Sunday came, much to the relief of many of the arcade's residents and to Turbo's disappointment. During the early hours of the day, the white-clad racer entered the garage and grabbed a clean rag, eager for something to do with his free time. He immediately went to work at buffing every inch of the car, polishing it of every particle of dust that may have settled there the previous day. The cars got dirty easily, racing across a dirt track, and Turbo took a great deal of pride in his car's appearance. He wiped down the hood, the sides, the spoiler, and even the tire rims until he was satisfied.

Finally pleased with his work, Turbo tossed the dirty rag into the bucket by his feet and glanced outside towards the track. Even after polishing his car and making sure it was spotless, he suddenly felt compelled to take the car out for a spin. Just because the quarters had temporarily stopped pouring in didn't mean he had to park the car in the garage until the arcade opened again. In fact, he preferred being behind the wheel when the children were gone, as he had complete control then. His speed and maneuvering depended solely on him, and he liked having that control.

Hopping into the car, the racer started up the engine and quickly set a course for the race track. Even if he wasn't racing against anyone, it was still a thrill for him to just feel the wind whipping against his face and hear the humming of the little car's engine. Once the wheels hit the dirt track, Turbo immediately applied pressure to the accelerator and his stomach gave a lurch as the car's speed increased. He only eased up on the gas when he approached a turn, not wanting to risk a crash. One lap turned into three laps, and then three turned into ten. It never seemed to be enough for the racer. Every time he crossed that checkered finish line, he always found himself thinking, 'Okay, just one more.'

It wasn't until the racer completed his fifteenth lap that he slammed his foot against the break, while simultaneously forcing the car to rotate around until it was facing the direction from which it came. The dust settled and the Good Guy gave a sigh of content as he slumped against his seat. He then stilled suddenly as he heard the sound of slow clapping not too far away. He shifted in his seat and glanced over his shoulder, where he noticed Rally leaning casually against the stadium, staring back at him with a smirk. "Nicely done," he drawled, clapping his hands together one last time. "You're quite the speed demon."

Uninterested in anything his counterpart had to say, Turbo hit the accelerator and turned his car around, intending to return to the garage, but Rally quickly stepped out onto the track, placing himself in the racer's path. Startled, Turbo quickly slammed on the breaks, his car stopping just inches before the other racer, who lifted a foot and planted it on the hood. "What's the rush?"

"What do you want?"

Grinning, Rally leaned in and rested an arm against his raised knee. "You know you ride pretty good for a knock-off."

"Stop calling me that!"

Rally lifted his hands defensively. "Touchy, touchy. If you're so confident, how'd you like to _really_ put your skills to the test?"

"What'd you mean?" Turbo narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the diminutive man.

"I'm talking about a little friendly competition. You and me, one on one."

"Fine! You're on! Go get your car right now!" the pale protagonist exclaimed.

"Ah-ah, hold up a minute," Rally replied, wagging a finger. "We'll be racing on my turf. You really think I'd degrade myself by racing in _this_ game?"

Eyes flashing, Turbo lightly tapped the accelerator, causing the car to jerk forward slightly. His foot still on the hood, Rally yelped as he was thrown back slightly, throwing a hand out to stop himself from completely landing on his back. He flashed a glare of his own and straightened up again, dusting himself off.

"If I beat you, you have to stop calling me a knock-off."

Rally's confidence didn't falter in the least. "Deal. Come to my game tomorrow after the arcade closes."

"I'll be there."

"No, you won't," a third voice interjected angrily. Turbo stilled slightly and looked past Rally, who was also looking towards the source of the voice. They both saw a very displeased looking Throttle advancing toward them, though his angry gaze was focused squarely on Rally. "You're not going anywhere."

"But-"

"No!" the NPC snapped, finally settling his attention on the racer. "You've got nothing to prove to this little worm! You'll only be dignifying his words if you challenge him."

"Why don't you mind your own business, NPC? I think he's capable of thinking for himself."

Throttle moved so quickly that Turbo had to wonder if he had even moved at all. The Challenger had shot his hand out and roughly grabbed a hold of Rally's collar, pulling him forward to where his face was just inches from his. "My patience is wearing thin," he spat venomously.

"You mean you've actually _been_ patient up until this point?" Rally quipped. "I never would have guessed. I thought NPCs were just supposed to blend quietly in the background."

Throttle shoved the man back and quickly turned to approach his co-worker. "Come home, Turbo. Now."

The racer looked completely taken aback by his words. "You can't tell me what to do!"

Throttle bit his lip, having to resist the urge to shout 'Oh, yes I can!' like an overprotective father, because he honestly_ couldn't_, and he didn't know why he felt like he could. Common sense would say that if _anyone_ had to be in charge, it'd probably be Turbo himself, considering he was the protagonist of the game. Throttle certainly didn't have any authority in this situation. "Turbo…please, just come home and forget about this," he pleaded with a sigh.

"No! I'm going to race that jerk tomorrow and you can't stop me, so just forget it!"

You know what, to heck with common sense.

Fed up, Throttle reached into the car and hoisted the smaller racer out of his seat and slung him over his shoulder. "LET GO! Put me down!" he squawked, pounding his fists against his colleague's back. Ignoring his shouts of protests, Throttle once again turned his attention back on Rally, who looked somewhat amused by the display.

"Out," he stated simply and started his walk back to their home, Turbo kicking and screaming the whole way.

0ooooooo0

Piston's head shot up as the front door swung open. He immediately sat up from the couch and watched with wide, curious eyes as his twin entered their home, a screaming and flailing Turbo draped over his shoulder. "PUT ME DOWN! PUT ME DOWN NOW!" The racer yelped as he was promptly dropped to the floor. He was on his feet again within seconds and proceeded to tackle the slightly taller racer to the floor, who pushed back against the assault.

As the situation seemed to spiral out of control, Piston immediately hopped behind the couch for cover. "Happy place, happy place, happy place," he chanted over and over again as the shouting grew louder.

"Turbo, just get a grip already!"

"You have no right to order me around!"

"Look, I'm not trying to be the bad guy here. I'm just trying to make sure you don't do anything stupid!"

Turbo shoved a finger in the Challenger's face. "I can do whatever I want! Just mind your own business!"

And that was the end of the conversation for the racer. He turned on his heels and marched to his room, making sure to slam the door just in case his colleague didn't get the message. Throttle sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, at least grateful that their house was still in one piece. "Piston?" he called, glancing around the room. "Piston, where are you?"

"Over here," a voice called nervously. Throttle looked towards the couch, noticing a head slowly rise from behind it, face etched with fear.

"What are you doing back there?"

"Hey, I thought you guys were going to kill each other," Piston replied as he attempted to climb over the back of the couch, which was a futile effort. The Challenger ended up toppling over the front of the couch and rolling into the floor. Rather than get up right away, the racer folded an arm behind his head and met his twin's gaze. "So ugh…what's the problem?"

"Rally tried to challenge Turbo to a race."

Piston immediately sat up, looking rather excited by the news. "And you don't want him to?"

"Why should he race against that idiot?"

"Because he deserves to get his butt whooped! Seriously, man!"

Throttle laughed lightly as he went to plop down on the couch. "Well, yeah, I'd kind of like to see him get put in his place, too. But…I just feel like Turbo would be degrading himself if he did it. He doesn't need to prove anything to that little weasel. Not to mention it's dangerous."

Piston pushed himself up and crawled back onto the couch beside his twin. "Well, maybe you should try explaining that to him _calmly_ instead of stomping around, saying, "Fee-fi-fo-fum, me smart, you dumb."

Throttle's nose scrunched up in disapproval, and he attempted to swat at the other's head, who ducked with a chortle. "All right, watch it, you."

"Seriously, just try it. Just wait a while before you do, for your own safety."

Throttle couldn't argue with that, as it had become perfectly clear that Turbo had a slight temper.

0ooooooo0

Turbo had been residing on his bed for quite some time, his back pressed against the wall. He cradled his helmet in his lap, tracing an index finger along the outline of the scarlet 'T' that decorated the front of the headgear. He had had no intentions of speaking to Throttle for the rest of the night, but when he heard the door slowly creak open, he knew immediately that he wouldn't be successful in that task.

The Challenger quietly poked his head inside, eying the racer with soft, apologetic eyes. "Oh, good, I thought you were going to throw something at me," he teased as he stepped into the room.

Turbo shrugged. "I don't have anything within reach. Well, except this," he said, holding up the helmet.

"Look, can we just talk about this?" Throttle asked calmly as he went to take a seat on the bed.

Shrugging again, Turbo flatly replied, "Talk."

"Listen, I don't know that you've taken the time to consider this, but you know the rules of regeneration don't apply to games abroad, right?"

Turbo slowly turned to his colleague. "What are you talking about?"

"Turbo, if anything goes wrong over there…and you wind up getting killed, you're done. You realize that, right?"

Turbo's gaze fell to the helmet in his lap, all traces of anger slowly leaving his features. "I'll be careful," he answered pleadingly. "I just really want to leave that jerk in the dust."

"Look, I know racing's in your code, but you've got to have a level head about this."

"I promise, I'll be okay." Turning to meet his colleague's gaze again, he softened his eyes and stuck out his bottom lip in an effort to look as pathetic as possible.

"Do _not_ give me that look," Throttle stated sternly, though it was clear to see he was weakening. Turbo took the advantage and softened his features even more. Throttle didn't stand a chance against such weaponry.

"All right, all right. Just promise me you'll be careful and don't get carried away out there."

Turbo leapt to his feet, pumping a triumphant fist in the air. "YES!" he shouted excitedly as he bolted from the room. "Hope you checked your watch, Rally, 'cause it's Turbo Time!"

Throttle winced at the joke. "Really?"

* * *

**Author's Note: **I would like to take this time to give a special thanks to Dixie Darlin, who's been the only person to give me any real feedback on this story.

This may be the last chapter for a while. No, it's not because the story hasn't been getting a lot of feedback. At least, not entirely. There's actually another story that I started months ago that has sort of been sitting untouched for a while now. Lately I've felt compelled to try and spend a little time on it to see if there's any way I can get it done, because the story actually came quite a ways before I stopped writing it and I'd hate for it to go to waste. So I may be be spending the next couple of weeks on that. Plus, I really need to get more of this story done before I post the next chapter, which IS done, but I'd just like to get further along before I post anymore.


	4. Going in Blind

Chapter III:  
**Going in Blind**

The hours ticked by so unbelievably slowly. Ordinarily, Turbo would have jumped for joy at every quarter alert they received, but the only thing he had on his mind today was his race with Rally. And of _course_ Mr. Litwak had to take his sweet, precious time locking the place up. But when that door finally closed and the all clear was given, Turbo immediately turned to his co-workers with a face splitting grin. "C'mon, let's go!"

Throttle hoisted himself onto the spoiler of the red race car, gripping its edges tightly. He looked to his twin and nodded him over, though he looked extremely apprehensive as he slowly climbed onboard, which Turbo took notice of, but he figured the Challenger was just nervous about possibly falling off. "Now just take it slow, all right? I don't want us to go flying off if you hit a bump," said Throttle.

"All right, all right," the racer sighed as he gently applied pressure to the accelerator. The trio made their way for the game's exit, Turbo's excitement escalating by the second, but Piston only seemed to grow more and more afraid, his eyes bulging and breathing quickening.

"Piston, calm down," Throttle tried to soothe. "We'll be fine."

But as the car came within ten feet of the portal, Piston let out a panicked cry and leapt from the moving vehicle, stumbling slightly as his feet hit the ground. Turbo noticed immediately and stopped the car, looking back to see Throttle going after him.

"No, no, no," the Challenger gasped as he backed away from the portal. "I don't wanna go out there."

"Piston, we won't be doing anything dangerous, I promise."

Piston shook his head frantically and clung to his twin, who winced as he felt the other's stress overwhelm him. "No!"

Turbo watched silently from his car, his face a mix of concern as well as confusion. The two NPCs were speaking too softly for him to actually hear, which only intensified his curiosity. "What's wrong?" he finally called but the two continued their soft communication amongst each other.

"Look, why don't you just stay here and I'll go," Throttle suggested quietly, squeezing the other's shoulder for reassurance, but Piston was having none of it. He quickly grabbed his twin's forearms and shook his head over and over.

"No! Please don't leave! Please!"

Sighing, Throttle shot Turbo an apologetic glance. "Just go on ahead."

"Wait, you're not coming?"

"No, I'm staying with him."

Turbo's gaze shifted to the Challenger clinging to his twin, his yellow eyes wide with terror, and immediately, pity softened his features. "All right," he said with disappointment as he turned to face the front again, settling back against the seat as he continued forward.

"Be careful!" he heard Throttle call to him but he didn't answer back.

"I'm sorry," Piston squeaked shamefully, prompting Throttle to whip his head around to look at him.

"Sorry for what? You didn't do anything wrong."

"I'm a coward. I really wanted to watch him race that creep."

"We still can. Come on, I've got an idea."

0ooooooo0

Anxiousness began to rise in the pit of his stomach as Turbo urged his little car into the Rally-X portal. He was excited, sure, but he was entering a world that was not his own. He had never actually seen the game, so he had to wonder what was awaiting him at the other end of that cord. Surely the game couldn't have been that much different than his own.

Green was the first color that met his eyes as he passed through the portal. Green grass stretched across the flat landscape, eventually disappearing into a cluster of thick, tall evergreen shrubbery, which flanked both sides of what looked to be a large hedge of some kind. There was a gap in the growth, with two twenty foot tall flag posts on either side of it, their red flags both bearing the label, 'R-X'. But the game's settings were quickly forgotten as Turbo noticed Rally lounging in his car just a few feet off to his right.

"I've been waiting for you," he said with a smile as he pulled his arms from behind his head. "I knew you couldn't resist." The racer hopped out of his car and strolled towards his rival, grinning confidently.

"Look, I'm not here to talk, I'm here to race. Now where's your track?"

Rally cocked his head towards the large hedge a few hundred yards away. "Right in front of you."

Turbo glanced at the hedge with furrowed brows, and then immediately turned back to Rally. "I don't see a track. All I see is a hedge."

His counterpart chuckled and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Walk with me," he said smugly as he guided him forward. He led him to a tall set of bleachers, which easily exceeded the height of the hedge. At the top of those bleachers, a large thirty by thirty screen overlooked the landscape. The screen appeared blank, with the exception of ten yellow dots scattered across the navy blue space. "This way," Rally ordered as he began to ascend the side stairs leading to the top, a still very confused Turbo right behind him. When they finally reached the top, Rally turned and extended a hand outward in a 'Ta da' fashion, flashing the racer a quick grin. Turbo followed his gaze, his eyes widening as he was finally able to see what lay beyond that hedge.

A maze. It was an enormous maze, not a race track. He had walked into this game completely blind, and it was then that he finally realized the trouble he had gotten himself into, though he'd certainly never admit it.

"What's the matter? You seem a little…lost for words," Rally taunted. Turbo continued to stare at the labyrinth in stunned silence. "I know what you were expecting, but here, we don't race in a boring circle like in your lame game."

Turbo whipped his head around to glare at his counterpart, but Rally paid him no attention, his gaze completely focused on the maze before them.

"No, the object of this game is to clear ten flags before you run out of fuel. And you have to do it while those goons down there try to stop you," Rally added as he jabbed a finger towards a trio of NPCs gathered at the bottom of the bleachers, too caught up in their chatter to hear him. "But they'll be sitting this one out. This is between you and me."

"So…what do we do, then?"

"We'll both be clearing the flags. So whoever clears the most, wins, which means you'll need to get six or more."

Rally brushed past his rival and began descending the stairs.

"What happens if we both get five?"

"Well, I guess it's a tie then, isn't it, genius?" Rally retorted sarcastically. Face reddening, Turbo followed after him, his face twisted in a vicious scowl. Both characters retrieved their cars and slowly made their way inside the maze. They both lined their cars up parallel to each other, a thirty-five foot gap between them. Rally shot his opponent a glare out of the corner of his eye before reaching up to grasp the pair of green goggles that were secured against his helmet, pulling them down over his eyes. "You ready, knock-off?"

The white-clad racer grit his teeth, hissing, "That'll be the last time you ever call me that!"

"Yeah, we'll see," the elder character drawled, shifting his gaze back to the front.

"READY!" one of the NPC Challengers shouted from atop the bleachers. "SET!"

Turbo felt a bead of sweat slowly trickle down from his brow and over his nose.

"GO!"

0ooooooo0

The twins carefully climbed the stairs leading to the top of the stands, Throttle a few feet ahead. Piston trailed a short distance behind, glancing over his shoulder and looking up at the large screen that overlooked the game's landscape. "You're sure we can get a good view of the arcade from here?"

"I'm positive. I've already been up here once. Rally's game is across from ours, off to the right a little bit."

"Man, this is a workout," Piston sighed tiredly as he paused momentarily, leaning over to rest his hands on his knees.

"Oh, please. Come on, move it!"

"I'm movin', I'm movin!"

The two Challengers made it to the top of the stands and stationed themselves at the very center where they were able to face the screen directly. The pixilated, faceless audience did not acknowledge them, as they weren't sentient beings and were only programmed to remain stationary and bounce up and down. Piston couldn't help but be a little creeped out by them. "You think our developers got lazy toward the end and just said 'Screw it'?" he asked, nodding down to the unmoving audience.

"More than likely," Throttle mumbled as he cleaned the lenses of a set of binoculars he had brought from home. "I guess we should feel pretty lucky, although sometimes when I look in the mirror, I can't help but wonder how much sleep they were running on when they designed us."

Throttle lifted the binoculars to his eyes and immediately began scanning for the Rally-X console. "There!" he said, leaning forward slightly.

"What's happening?"

"They haven't started yet. They're inside the maze right now."

Piston cocked his head curiously. "Wait, did you say '_maze'_?"

"Yeah, Rally's track is a maze." Throttle lowered his binoculars and looked at his twin firmly, doubt clearly evident.

"Well, he can still win, right?"

Throttle didn't respond, lifting the binoculars back to his eyes and seeking out the rival console again.

0ooooooo0

Turbo hit the accelerator as though his life depended on it. His back wheels spun for a moment before his car finally started moving. However, just around the time his car managed to pick up speed, he found himself coming upon a sharp turn. He slammed on the breaks and turned the wheel rapidly, but his car still ended up sliding into the hedge, dropping tiny leaves all over him. He took off again, this time managing to round a corner without crashing, but within seconds after doing this, he came upon a dead end and ended up having to slam on the breaks again.

"Not so easy, is it?" he heard Rally's taunting voice shout from somewhere inside the maze. Growling in frustration, Turbo managed to turn his car around and quickly continued his hunt for the yellow flags. He tried to monitor his speed, but that meant going against his code, and his code kept telling him to speed up. After all, logic seemed to indicate that the faster you went, the more likely you were to win. But this game operated differently. He knew that, and yet he still couldn't make the adjustments.

And so he crashed.

Again.

And again.

And…again.

0ooooooo0

"This isn't good," Throttle sighed as he continued to observe the events going on in the other console.

"Let me see!" Piston chirped anxiously as he snatched the binoculars from his twin, forgetting that they were actually draped around the Challenger's neck.

"ACK!" Throttle gasped as the strap pulled against his neck, practically pulling him down into Piston's lap.

"What are those yellow things?" Piston asked, ignoring the other's distress.

"Flags," Throttle managed to blurt out as he finally freed himself from the choking grip of the binocular strap, gently rubbing his neck. "You have to get all of them before you run out of fuel. And Rally's already collected two of them."

"He's crashing!" Piston gasped as he saw Turbo's car hit another dead end. "Why does he keep crashing?"

Throttle sighed, shaking his head. "Because he's used to TurboTime's track. He can't help but race as though he were on a steady, non-changing path. In our game, he can speed up and maintain that speed. But it's not like that in Rally's game. There, the track changes direction so suddenly, so sharply, that Turbo just ends up crashing every time he tries to round a corner. Rally knew that, and Turbo walked right into it."

"So…he's going to lose?"

"Without a doubt."

0ooooooo0

There, he could see it. At first he wasn't sure what he was looking at when he saw the dash of yellow, but it didn't take long for it to register that he had found his first flag, which was nestled in a corner and very easy to miss if one wasn't paying attention. Turbo wasted no time and immediately sped towards the little flag, his heart in his throat. The moment the hood of his car made contact, the flag dispersed, a beeping sound confirming its capture.

"One down, five to go," the racer breathed confidently as he snaked his way around the maze, crashing into the various hedges every six seconds. Looking up at the large screen overlooking the maze, it suddenly dawned on Turbo what those little yellow dots were. Each little dot indicated the flags' locations, and in addition to the yellow dots, there were two moving dots as well, one a red and one a blue, and they were both flashing. Those dots had to be him and Rally. But wait a minute…how many of those yellow dots were still on the map?

Oh crap.

There were only seven left; he had just collected one, which meant Rally had already collected two. Oh, make that three.

"Dang it!" the racer cursed, his frustration further hindering his ability to maneuver through the maze without error. The racer gasped and slammed on the breaks as Rally seemed to appear out of nowhere, rounding a corner and stopping his car directly in his rival's path.

"What's the matter? You look a little lost."

"I'm fine! This is nothing!"

"Oh, really?" Rally quipped with a giggle, rising from his seat and folding his arms over the steering wheel. "So the sound of your car crashing into the hedges was just my imagination?"

Lacking in a suitable comeback, Turbo spun his car around and took off again, stirring up dust as he went and leaving a still smirking Rally in his wake. He rounded corner after corner, hoping to put as much distance between himself and the other racer as possible, though in actuality, he had no sense of direction in this place. However, another flash of yellow restored his confidence and he sped towards it with desperation. He held his breath and kept a firm hand on the wheel, his eyes locked on nothing but that flag.

"Turbo-tastic!" the racer couldn't help but shout as he successfully collected his second flag. He knew he probably should have taken another look at the map just to see how far along Rally was, but that was only a distraction as far as he was concerned. Even one second spent looking at that map was another second Rally could use to get ahead, and he was already ahead as it was. As much as he hated to admit it, just _tying_ with the little creep was better than losing. At the very least, he needed to get five flags.

Two minutes and four crashes later, Turbo spotted his third flag, and he nearly crashed a fifth time as a result of just getting overly excited about it. He thankfully had a straight shot, and he eagerly took advantage of it, slamming his foot on the gas and charging at the awaiting flag. As he closed in on his prize, he sped through a four-way intersection, at which point the racer nearly collided with his counterpart as he was meeting him from the left side. Rally's blue car just managed to clear the slightly smaller car and he quickly pulled himself parallel to the racer. "Sorry, but I'll be taking that," he said as he slammed against Turbo's side.

"Back off! I saw it first!"

Rally smirked as he knocked his car into the other a second time. "Makes no difference who spotted it first! All that matters is who_ GETS_ IT FIRST!" With that said, Rally forced Turbo's car into the hedge on their left side before speeding onward and collecting the flag. He pulled his car to a stop and briefly removed his goggles. "Five down, knock-off. You still think you're game for this game?" he taunted.

Turbo spat a leaf from his mouth and looked at his opponent in disbelief. "_Five?!"_ he exclaimed. "A minute ago you only had three!"

"This is _my_ game, Turbo. I know this maze forwards, backwards and sideways! I can maneuver through it with ease, while you crash every three seconds. Just give up now before you embarrass yourself even further."

As furious as he was, Turbo didn't lose his determination for a second. "It's not over yet!"

The racer dislodged himself from the hedge and took off in another direction, prompting Rally to shake his head as he resituated his goggles over his eyes. "Oh yes it is."

He could still do this, he knew it. Rally hadn't won yet. Turbo knew now that winning was out of the question now that his counterpart had acquired five flags, but a tie was still possible, and while it wasn't as good as winning, it would at least put him at Rally's level. He wouldn't be able to say he was superior if he could match him at his own expertise. But still, Rally had managed to collect five flags in the time it took Turbo to collect two, and he still hadn't gotten the hang of weaving through this maze without crashing. It seemed like a long shot, but it wasn't in the racer's code to just quit.

When he saw another flash of yellow, the possibility that he could still pull off a tie seemed even more plausible. _Just two more after this one_, he thought as he moved his car directly in the flag's path, but the revving of another engine made his heart sink. He cringed and gripped his steering wheel, as he feared he was about to be slammed into by his opponent's larger car, but he was surprised to see Rally speed ahead of him and set himself directly in front of the red car.

"Game over!" he shouted as he reached down to press a button just off to the right of his steering wheel. There came a loud hissing sound, and Turbo's eyes widened in shock as white smoke spewed from a large, chrome pipe. He gasped out of instinct, and he immediately started coughing as the thick smoke was inhaled into his lungs. He passed through the plume rather quickly, but once the smoke cleared, he saw that Rally was already gone and directly in his path was a large, jagged rock nearly twice the size of his car. The racer immediately jerked his steering wheel to the left, his eyes blurring with tears from the painful sting of the smoke screen.

He managed to avoid hitting the rock head on, but his right front wheel still made contact, and it was enough to cause the car to spin suddenly, sending the Good Guy flying right out of his seat. He hit the dirt with a loud thud and rolled for several feet, finally coming to rest on his back, still coughing and wheezing. He could hear a car coming to a gradual stop just a few feet away, but he quickly rolled onto his side in order to avoid looking at the other racer.

"I almost feel sorry for you," Rally commented as he moved in on the protagonist. "But you should have known what you were walking into."

Snarling in rage, Turbo leapt to his feet and made an attempt to tackle his rival to the ground, but his slightly taller counterpart was able to fend him off fairly easily, as the racer was still struggling to breathe. He pushed him back roughly, sending him back down to the ground.

"Go home, knock-off. It's over."

* * *

**Author's Note: **I'm very sorry for taking so long to update. I attempted to work on that story I mentioned in my previous author's note, but I didn't get very far with it, as writer's block set in almost immediately. However, I HAVE been working on a different story within the last month and this one IS WIR-related, but I'm not going to go into any details.


	5. Unplugged

Chapter IV:  
**Unplugged**

He had seen it happen, and he thought for sure he might just scream. The smoke screen was bad enough, but when he saw Turbo's car clip the large rock, he felt a knot form in his stomach.

"Is he okay?!" Piston asked in panic upon seeing his twin's wide, terrified eyes as he lowered the binoculars.

"I don't know," Throttle muttered quickly as he shot to his feet and rushed passed the still sitting Challenger. Piston quickly followed.

"What happened? I couldn't see!"

"Rally blinded him with a smoke screen, and then his car hit a rock." Throttle clenched his fists as self-loathing bubbled to the surface. "I'm such an idiot! I should have never let him do this!"

"You can't stop him from doing what he wants," Piston pointed out gently, much to Throttle's annoyance.

The two NPCs entered the garage hastily, and Throttle immediately went for his car, earning a frown from his twin. "Umm…where are you going?"

"We're going to get him, all right? He could be hurt."

Piston took a step back, looking as though he may have another anxiety attack.

"Piston, I promise, it'll be all right. Turbo needs help, so you need to put this fear of yours aside, just for now. We'll be careful, I promise. I won't let anything happen." Throttle started up the car and urged it forward a bit, stopping right beside the apprehensive Challenger. "Please."

Piston finally conceded, giving a nervous nod as he climbed onto the car's spoiler. Throttle offered him a grateful smile before urging the car forward, being careful not to go too fast and risk his twin losing his balance. They made their way through the portal and snaked along the cord, a journey that seemed to take an eternity, especially to the fearful NPC.

"Are you doing okay up there?" Throttle asked him as they neared the end of the cord, the outlet gradually stepping into view.

"Yeah, I'm all right." Immediately, the Challenger's eyes widened and he pointed a finger. "Look!"

Throttle glanced back to the front and promptly gaped at the sight of the star racer pulling his car into the outlet. His face was reddened and his eyes misty from his coughing fit, which still hadn't ended. Throttle immediately stopped his car and jumped out, Piston scurrying after him.

"Are you all right?"

Turbo tried to squeak out a quick, "No" but his coughing hindered a verbal response, and so he settled for a quick shake of his head. He stumbled out of his car and hunched over, acting as though he might throw up. Throttle quickly placed a hand on his back as he continued to cough, knowing it was of little comfort. The Challenger looked to his twin sharply.

"Take him back to the game in your car. I'll grab his car and bring it back for him. I don't want him driving anymore."

Piston nodded and took Turbo by the arm, leading him back to the idling blue car.

"Drive slow, okay?"

Piston gave another nod as he helped hoist Turbo onto the spoiler, instructing him to try and hold on as tight as he could, which wasn't easy to do given the fact that he was still coughing profusely. Once they disappeared into the tunnel, Throttle let out a loud, agitated breath, his fists clenching in anger. The urge to seek out Rally and have a little 'chat' with him briefly crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed the idea. Turbo was more important right now.

0ooooooo0

Once Throttle had stored Turbo's car back in the garage, he quickly fled inside, where he could still hear the sound of the racer's coughing. He followed the sound into the bathroom, where he saw Turbo hunched over the sink, Piston standing beside him with an arm draped across his stiffened shoulders.

"How're you doing?" Throttle asked instinctively, though it seemed like an absurd question. The racer just shook his head as he hacked loudly. The Challenger quickly found a washcloth and dampened it with cool water. "Piston, go get a glass of water, okay?"

The NPC nodded and scurried out of the bathroom, while Throttle forced Turbo to straighten up slightly so that he could press the washcloth against his forehead.

"Come on…let's hear it," Turbo managed to utter hoarsely, catching a break from his coughing.

"Hear what?"

"Something along the lines of 'I told you so'?"

Throttle sighed as he withdrew the washcloth from the racer's forehead and moved to place it against the back of his neck. "Look, I was the one who let you go, so I'm the one who deserves the blame here."

"You know I would have gone anyway, right?" Turbo hunched over and coughed again.

The NPC's teeth clenched. "Yes, I'm aware. But still, I should have known better. I had a better understanding of his game than you did. I should have warned you."

"Yeah, that would have been nice," Turbo growled. "I really could have used a warning for that smoke screen."

Throttle winced as he swept the damp cloth across his face again. "Believe me, that little trick of his caught me by surprise, too."

Piston returned moments later, extending the glass of water he had retrieved out to the racer, who downed every last drop of it.

"I think you should lie down for a while," Throttle suggested, placing his hands on the racer's shoulders and guiding him out of the bathroom.

"I'm fi-" Turbo's words were immediately cut off as another fit of coughs wracked his body.

"No, come on," Throttle protested as he guided his colleague into his room. He forced him to lie down, placing the washcloth against his forehead again.

"I'll-" the racer coughed violently, "-show that jerk next time."

Throttle's eyes flashed. "No, you won't," he said with so much affirmation that Turbo was almost afraid to protest. "You're not going anywhere near him ever again, do you understand? Don't look at him, don't speak to him, and if he tries to provoke you, just walk away, do you hear me? He's not worth it."

Gritting his teeth, Turbo turned on his side, reaching up a hand to hold the washcloth in place.

"You don't need to prove anything to him."

"You already said that."

"Well, I think it needs repeating!"

"I get it, okay? So just shut up about it already." Turbo suddenly curled into a ball as he coughed and wheezed again. Throttle sighed and had a seat on the edge of the bed, placing a hand to his colleague's head and running it across his hair. His gentle hand did very little to silence his coughing, but it was all he could give him. The Challenger remained there for quite a while, his concern dying down as Turbo's coughing slowly subsided. Piston would occasionally pop into the room to check on him, always asking if there was anything he could do. Throttle had finally convinced him to just go to bed, assuring him that he'd take care of the racer.

Soon everything became quiet, and the only sound that could be heard was the soft, steady breathing of the protagonist. Throttle unleashed a deep sigh, relieved to see that he was finally sleeping soundly, no longer plagued by painful coughing. And now that he felt his presence was no longer needed, Throttle stood up and promptly left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He silently made his way down the hall to the room he shared with his twin, stopping before the doorway and listening carefully for the sound of even breathing. Soft snores concluded that the NPC was, in fact, asleep, much to Throttle's relief. He exited their home and immediately headed for the portal, deciding to exit the game on foot.

Throttle crossed through Game Central briskly, never once making eye contact with the characters he passed. He found the outlet he was looking for and entered it promptly, entering a game he had only seen on the console screen. It had a daytime setting, much like their own. If it weren't for the fact that he was so livid at the moment, he might have thought the game was quite beautiful.

He quickly found what he was looking for-a garage not too far off screen. Whether or not Rally was actually in there was unknown to him, but he strolled up to the garage quickly, noticing that the door was open. Once he stepped inside, he saw the offending character crouched down on one knee before his blue kart, polishing the rims of his tires with a red rag. "I had a feeling I'd be seeing you," he said coolly, never once taking his attention off his car. Throttle swiftly approached him, and Rally leapt to his feet, tossing the rag aside as he turned to face the approaching NPC. He never once resisted as Throttle grabbed him by the collar of his jumpsuit and slammed him against a wall.

"How low can you get?" the pale racer snarled. "Was that little stunt you pulled really necessary?"

Rally's eyes narrowed quickly. "That's how the game is played, idiot. Can't handle the heat, get out of the kitchen. I didn't do anymore to him than I do to my own co-workers."

Throttle leaned in. "You could have warned him about it before you started!"

The elder racer smirked. "Whoops."

"Why waste your time, huh? If Turbo is so beneath you, why do you feel the need to prove yourself to him?"

For a split second, Rally seemed to lose his collective demeanor. "I'm not trying to prove myself to that little twerp!" he snapped defensively, earning a smirk from the Challenger.

"Oh, no?" he asked haughtily. "I think you're scared. Our game is popular and you can't stand that. You're losing your confidence, and humiliating Turbo is the only way to assure yourself. Pretty sad, really."

Rally could offer nothing but a venomous scowl, his mind unable to produce any sort of witty retort. However, as his eyes briefly looked past the Challenger, his confidence seemed to return in an instant, and he smirked down at the NPC.

"I think this little discussion is over."

Before he even knew what was happening, Throttle felt two sets of hands seize him by the arms, prying him off the native racer. He glanced from side to side frantically, noticing that two of the Rally-X NPCs had restrained him.

"Kindly escort him out, will you?"

Throttle resisted the hands that tried to pull him along. "You had better stay away from him, you hear me?!"

Rally crossed his arms and cocked his head slightly. "As long as he's learned his place."

"YOU-" Throttle immediately tried to charge the racer, but the two NPCs restraining him quickly pulled him back, dragging him out of the garage and towards the game's portal. They shoved him forward into the tunnel, where he stumbled and fell with a painful grunt. He swiftly glanced over his shoulder to glare at them as they retreated, resisting the urge to run right back into the game and take them all on. But he knew better than to do something so risky. As angry as he might have been, he knew it was better to walk away with his life. "WE'LL SEE HOW LONG YOUR GAME LASTS!" he shouted back at them, making sure he spoke loud enough for Rally to overhear.

Getting to his feet, Throttle dusted himself off and silently made his way back to his own game, feeling anything but accomplished.

0ooooooo0

Stress and anxiousness were what woke the sleeping NPC. As he slowly rose into a sitting position, he heard the distinct sound of the front door opening and closing. Piston was on his feet in an instant, exiting the bedroom and scurrying down the hall to meet his twin. "What happened?" he asked urgently as their eyes met.

"What'd you mean?"

"You're upset. What happened?"

"Nothing happened. You're overreacting." Throttle's eyes shifted elsewhere, a clear indication of lying.

"Did…Did you leave the game?"

"No!"

Sighing tiredly, Throttle shuffled his way over to the couch and plopped down, his twin taking up residence beside him within seconds.

"Where did you go, then?" he continued to pry. "I heard you walk through the door."

Throttle immediately averted his gaze again. "Look, I'm still steaming, all right? I was just stepping out for some air. That's it, I promise you."

Piston nodded slowly, his eyes falling to his hands. Shifting his attention back to his twin, Throttle reached out a hand and ruffled his hair affectionately. "I'm okay now. Let's just forget today happened, all right?"

The NPC nodded once again, bringing himself to smile this time. As far as he knew, Throttle never once set foot outside of their game, and for the sake of his happiness, he made sure it stayed that way.

0ooooooo0

Mr. Litwak leaned back in his chair and extended his arms above his head in a stretch. He rolled his neck around to work out the kinks before rising to his feet. The arcade had closed close to an hour ago, but he had decided to stay late to go over some figures in his office.

"Boy, oh boy, I hate these days," the man sighed as he stepped back out into the now quiet arcade. The games flickered and flashed their title screens, their theme music the only sound to be heard. Litwak ran a hand across the back of his neck as he looked over each cabinet. He truly did hate days like today, but it was part of the business. There always came a time when he needed to sit down and evaluate each game critically. If any games dropped significantly in popularity and didn't pick back up in the course of two months, Litwak would have to pull the plug. He hated to do it, but he knew going into the business that not every game that graced his arcade would last. And he could never introduce newer games unless he got rid of a few along the way.

Litwak made his way over to the TurboTime console and smiled proudly. "Well, I'd say you're doing pretty well for yourself, eh, little fella?" he said as he touched his hand to the top of the cabinet. "Better than I expected, in fact." His frown returning, Litwak slowly turned to glance at the Rally-X console just a few feet away. "But you, I'm not so sure."

Litwak had introduced Rally-X to the arcade with a great deal of confidence. The game had made its debut with high expectations, and he had thought for sure that it would be his top earner. It had been highly anticipated that the game would surpass its close cousin Pac-Man in popularity, but that just wasn't happening, it seemed. Litwak had bought the game close to a year ago, and it had hit a plateau only three months in. And TurboTime's success only seemed to reinforce the fact that the game wasn't going to make it.

It was odd to see TurboTime so successful considering it was clearly inspired by Rally-X, if not a blatant rip-off, as the games had similar cabinet art and were both played from an aerial view, the graphics of the cars being nearly identical. Of course, the games still had their differences, similar as they were. Litwak didn't care either way, of course. To him, a game was a game, and games were meant to be played and enjoyed. He valued originality, sure, but if his kids were happy with the games, he wasn't going to complain. After all, he didn't make the games, he just hosted them.

Sighing heavily, Mr. Litwak shuffled his way towards the door, making sure to flip the light switch as he went. The arcade would have been plunged into pitch blackness had it not been for the soft glow of the console screens, which illuminated the room in a multitude of colors. Litwak slipped outside, closing the door softly on his way out.

0ooooooo0

It had been close to a week since Turbo had faced off against Rally. He had calmed down considerably, and that was due mostly to the incredible week TurboTime had had since then. Children flocked to his game, shoving quarters into the slot faster than he could count. He seldom ever lost a race, and the trophies he received accumulated rapidly. But all the while, Rally's words still echoed in the back of his mind. It made it rather difficult for him to actually appreciate each and every victory. Luckily, he hadn't seen his counterpart since that day, gradually returning him to a better mood.

The protagonist had decided to brave Game Central Station for the first time in five days. Only twice had he ever set foot inside the power strip, and he had yet to be given any reason to think this experience would go smoothly, but his natural curiosity compelled him to give it another shot, much to Throttle and Piston's displeasure. He had invited them to come along, but they refused, Piston more prominently so, which Turbo still did not understand, but he didn't dwell on it for very long.

Surprisingly, the racer wasn't met with any hostility. Even more shocking was the fact that several characters felt compelled to approach him and actually praise him on just how popular his game had become.

"I don't think I've ever seen a game be received so well so fast."

"Not even a month and you're already top earner!"

The praise was certainly a welcome change from the bullying and harassment he had received just days ago upon his arrival. The change in attitude seemed to confirm what had been said about newbies always being given a hard time on their first day. Apparently the racer had earned their respect, though he still held firm to the belief that he should have been welcomed from the start. Being the top earner should have never been the ultimate criteria for being respected.

But at any rate, the praise provided him with newfound confidence, and despite Throttle's advice to steer clear of his rival, Turbo felt it appropriate to pay his counterpart a visit and bestow upon him some much deserved gloating.

There was very little hesitation as the racer turned on his heels and made his way for Rally-X portal. He soon slowed to a stop, however, his smirk faltering as he came upon his destination, only to see that the outlet was blocked off by a red barrier, the title screen above blank. Furrowing his brows, Turbo had a quick look around to make sure he hadn't made a mistake. He was certain this was where the Rally-X portal was supposed to be. Noticing a splash of orange out of the corner of his eye, Turbo turned to see the small antagonist from Pac-Man who had spoken to him during his first day at the arcade.

"Hey!" he called, waving him over. "Hey, floaty guy!"

The little ghost turned around, sighing in mild annoyance. "My name is Clyde."

"Clyde, sorry." The racer turned and indicated to the vacant outlet. "Am I wrong, or did that used to be the Rally-X portal?"

Clyde's blue eyes shifted towards the unoccupied outlet, immediately softening with what appeared to be sadness. "You're not mistaken."

"What happened?"

"The game was unplugged this morning before the arcade opened."

Turbo looked startled. "What? Why? Was there something wrong with it?"

"No. The game just wasn't popular anymore, which is even worse."

"Worse? How?"

The antagonist's gaze fell to the ground. "Because there's no warning. If a game has a glitch, Litwak will typically place an 'Out of Order' sign on the screen. This gives everyone a chance to get out before the plug is pulled. But if the game just isn't popular anymore, it'll just be unplugged, no warning, nothing."

"So…they didn't make it out?"

"As far as I know."

Clyde's gaze fell again as he slowly floated past the racer, who stared after him in stunned silence. Blinking twice, he slowly shifted his attention to the blank title screen above the unoccupied outlet, a lump forming in his throat.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Sorry this chapter took a while, but I feel I should let it be known that updates will probably be slow from here on out. At least until I can get over this middle ground. As I've said, this story started out as a one-shot, and I haven't even gotten to the portion of the story that I originally started. These first five chapters were all added later after I decided to expand the story. So yeah, this story is basically an oreo cookie without the cream in it right now.

Thanks for all the reviews, guys! Especially to my reviewers aisarete and Groudon202 for your in depth reviews! They're a big motivator!


	6. Mortality

Chapter V:  
**Mortality**

His eyes never left the ground as he made his way back to his game. He just couldn't believe what he had just heard. While he was certainly no stranger to the thought of games being unplugged, he had never actually seen it happen. This was the first unplugging that had occurred since his game had been introduced, and he couldn't help but feel it was his own fault. The timing was too suspicious to be a coincidence.

Entering the TurboTime portal, Turbo slowly walked the path leading to his home. He made no acknowledgement of his colleagues as he walked through the front door, but they certainly acknowledged him.

"Turbo, what happened?" Throttle asked immediately, rising from the couch.

"Yeah, you look like you just saw a ghost," Piston added. Turbo probably would have laughed at the absolute hilarity of that statement if his mind hadn't been racing with so many emotions right then.

"You didn't run into Rally, did you? What did he say to you?" Throttle questioned sternly.

"It's gone," Turbo responded softly, prompting both Piston and Throttle to glance at each other quizzically.

"What's gone?"

"Rally's game. It was unplugged this morning."

Both NPCs immediately went still. "Are they all right?" Throttle asked, his voice a bit shaky. Turbo shook his head.

"No. They're…They're all dead."

The two antagonists grew noticeably pale.

"You're sure?" Throttle asked. Turbo simply gave a quick nod as he turned and made his way for his room. "Turbo?"

"I just need to be alone for a while."

The two antagonists watched silently as their colleague exited the room, the sound of a door closing softly indicating that he was in his room. Concerned, Piston started to follow after him, but Throttle was quick to grab his shoulder, pulling him back. Looking his twin in the eye, he simply shook his head.

They never heard from Turbo the rest of the night.

0ooooooo0

For the next three days, Piston and Throttle did well to give Turbo the space he desired. The only time they communicated was during arcade hours. The star racer did well to mask his concern while the quarters poured in. As far as the gamers were concerned, he was still the same grinning, happy-go-lucky sprite he had always been. There was nothing out of the ordinary, as far as they could tell. But once the doors closed and the lights went out, Turbo would always retreat to his room, where he would remain the rest of the night.

On the third day, Throttle knew there was a long and serious discussion waiting to be had. How he was to approach the situation, he wasn't entirely sure. He supposed letting the protagonist open up to him first was the best option, but the racer made no indication that he wanted to speak to anyone, and it was beyond worrying. He knew this couldn't go on any longer.

While Piston was occupying his time on the race track, Throttle approached Turbo's room and knocked gently. "C'mon, Turbo, we need to talk."

Receiving no answer, Throttle slowly opened the door, slipping his head inside to peek at the racer, who was lying silently on his bed. Pushing his feelings of awkwardness aside, the NPC made his way into the room and settled down on the bed, lying directly beside his colleague. A few, silent moments passed before Turbo turned to lean against his co-worker. "What is it? Tell me."

"Was it our fault?"

"What?"

"Rally's game. Was it our fault that it was unplugged?"

"Is that what you think?"

The racer looked away.

"Turbo…a lot could have led up to that. Rally's game was probably heading downhill even before we came along."

"But then wouldn't we have been the final nail in the coffin?"

Throttle's face fell slightly. "I suppose it's possible."

Hearing this only reinforced Turbo's despair.

"But, Turbo…it isn't something you should beat yourself up about." Throttle couldn't help but feel like he was saying this more to himself than to Turbo, as he couldn't suppress the guilt he felt as he recalled his last words he had spoken to their rival.

"But they're dead because of me! I mean, I couldn't stand that jerk, but…I don't know, maybe that's why he was the way he was. Maybe he was afraid."

"Listen, we have no control over whether or not a game stays or goes. Those kids out there…they make the final call. They're the ultimate judge. Not us."

"But what if that happens to us? What if we become unpopular? What if…What if some other game comes along and…?"

Throttle sighed. This was a question he had been waiting to hear. It was the question that resided at the back of every character's mind.

"You need to understand…that just like the humans out there will one day die, our game will one day be unplugged. Nothing lasts forever, Turbo. I know that isn't something you want to hear, but that's reality. How that day will come to pass is unknown. Anything could happen. Our game could malfunction, or it might become unpopular, or…maybe Litwak will just decide that we've had a good run and decide to retire us. If I had to take my pick, I'd choose the last one. It's like dying of old age. And if that does happen, hopefully it won't be for a very long time."

The protagonist remained quiet for a brief moment as he tried to digest his colleague's rather somber words. "And…what then? What'll we do?"

"You'll be all right. When that day comes, you'll be ready. I'll make sure of it. I'm sure there'd be someone willing to take you in."

Turbo furrowed his brows at the wording of that statement. "You mean we'll find somewhere to live," he corrected firmly. When he didn't receive a response, he immediately sat up and glanced down at the NPC.

"Turbo…"

"What?" the racer snapped.

"Piston and I have talked about this…and well…we've decided not to leave the game. Ever."

Turbo stared at him in stunned silence, his face paling to near whiteness. Throttle quickly sat up and attempted to reach out to him, but Turbo shoved his hand aside as he leapt off the bed and ran from the room. Throttle didn't call him back, having already expected such a response. He heaved a sigh as he slid off the bed and began his hunt for the protagonist, already certain of where he would find him.

Sure enough, he found the racer in the garage, exactly where he expected to find him, as it was the racer's only other sanctuary. He tried to look interested as he detailed his car, but there was no motivation or enthusiasm that he could see in his eyes. The only thing he could see was unshed tears.

"Turbo, let's talk."

"Go away."

"I mean it. C'mon."

"What's to talk about? You've already made up your mind!"

"Can't I at least explain to you why?"

Huffing, Turbo cast his rag aside and turned around to lean himself against the wheel of his car, folding his arms across his chest. Throttle took a seat beside him.

"Piston and I…made a rather interesting discovery. Somehow, I think our code is linked."

Turbo finally turned to meet the antagonist's gaze. "Linked?"

"Yeah…something like that. I don't know. I just know that we can feel what the other is feeling, more so when one of us is in distress. My only guess is that our coding being nearly identical has something to do with it."

Turbo appeared startled at hearing this. "So…if one of you died…?"

"I don't know. But that possibility has occurred to us. You know how Piston's so afraid of leaving the game? Well, it's not just that he fears for his own life, but mine as well."

"But why wouldn't you want to leave if the game was going to be unplugged?!"

"Because I don't think we could handle it."

"Handle what?"

"Living in fear."

"Woah, woah, woah, back up a minute here!" Turbo snapped as he waved his hand around frantically. "Let me get this straight…you're afraid of dying…so you would choose to…die? What the heck, Throttle?! That makes no sense!"

The NPC chuckled softly, though this only seemed to infuriate the racer.

"Yeah, I guess it sounds kind of silly. The thing is, we'd be living in constant fear, worrying about not just ourselves, but each other. It just doesn't seem worth it."

"Isn't it better to live with the possibility of death than to not live at all? There's no logic to anything you're saying!" Turbo countered irritably.

"I suppose. But this is more an issue for Piston than it is for me. He just…He can't deal with it. And believe me, the fear of losing this game I think frightens him more than it does you. He can't imagine a life without it."

Gritting his teeth, the star racer looked away, pulling his legs to his chest. "You're both idiots."

"I never wanted to tell you. At least not until that day came."

Turbo's eyes shifted back to the NPC. "What makes you think I'd leave? What makes you think I'd want to live without this game? And especially without the two of you nitwits?"

"I'll throw you outside this game if I have to."

"You're the one who's making this complicated, not me! You're telling me I should embrace a life of being homeless and alone while the two of you take part in a suicide pact! It's not happening! I'll either stay here with you, or I'll drag the two of you out of here kicking and screaming!"

Throttle grinned and lightly snickered.

"It's not funny!" Turbo yelled, his bottom lip trembling as tears resurfaced.

Frowning, Throttle leaned in and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him forward and pressing the front of his helmet against his. "I don't want you to think about it anymore, okay? Our game could last twenty years for all we know. It's not something we should bother worrying ourselves to death over."

Both characters suddenly looked up as the humming of an engine came within earshot. A blue car gradually rolled into the garage, Piston behind the wheel. He shot a quick glance to the protagonist, frowning deeply when he saw just how distraught he appeared. "Are you okay?" he asked gently, though he felt it was a rather ridiculous question.

"I told him, Piston," Throttle interjected, prompting Piston to shoot a startled glance his way.

"You…You what?"

"Yeah, I know about your suicide pact," Turbo cut in sharply.

"Will you stop calling it that?" Throttle sighed as he rose to his feet. "Look, I'll just leave you two to talk for a minute."

After one last apologetic glance, Throttle exited the garage, leaving Piston and Turbo to discuss the matter alone. The NPC swallowed nervously as he gripped the steering wheel of his car, avoiding the other's gaze as best he could.

"You two would really stay behind," Turbo finally said after a very long, awkward silence. It came as more of a statement than a question. "You coward."

"I know," Piston whimpered.

"It doesn't make any sense!"

The antagonist cringed as he hid his face in his hands. "I know it doesn't, okay! I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm too scared to leave the game! I just…You don't know what it's like to know that someone else's life is dependent on yours. I mean, what kind of life would we be living if we didn't have a game anymore? Fearing for my own life is one thing…but knowing that I could potentially end someone else's life if I lost my own…I just can't handle that. I can't."

"But again, you're choosing certain death over potential death! Can't you see how stupid that is?!"

"Maybe it's stupid to you! Or maybe it really is stupid! I don't know, okay?! I just don't want to leave!" The antagonist finally broke down, covering his face as he sobbed. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Turbo cursed under his breath as he forced himself to his feet and made his way over to embrace the hysterical NPC. "Quit your blubbering," he said gently, rubbing circles into the other's back.

"I…never…wanted you…to know," Piston managed to gasp between sobs.

"Hush, it's all right."

The antagonist calmed slightly, sniffling as he held tightly to the racer embracing him.  
"I'm sorry," he whimpered again, burying his face into the white fabric of the jumpsuit. The subject was promptly dropped.

0oooooo0

Though it had been over a month since Litwak had unplugged Rally-X, Turbo still felt compelled to glance at the outlet as he walked past. The portal still sat vacant, as the arcade owner had yet to purchase a new game to occupy it. Seeing the closed off outlet and the blank screen always sent a chill up the racer's spine, as it reinforced what Throttle had said. Turbo liked to think that his game would always be around, but there was always so much uncertainty hanging in the air. Anything was possible, and not knowing how or when that day would come was what he struggled with the most. The thought of losing his game was bad enough, but not knowing how it would happen was what drove him mad.

Looking up at the vacant outlet once more, Turbo could not help but see himself in that situation, faced with the all too real possibility of his game losing players, resulting in his plug being pulled. And then there was the fact that his Challengers refused to leave if that day came.

Don't think about it, he told himself as he shook the thoughts from his mind. He shoved his hands in his pockets and started forward again, resisting the urge to keep looking back at the outlet.

"How's it going, knock-off?"

The voice was soft and dejected, but it still made Turbo stop dead in his tracks. He quickly whipped his head towards the row of benches situated in the center of the station, his gaze resting upon a slouched, red-haired character, his helmet removed and resting near his feet.

"Rally?"

* * *

**Author's Note: **I've decided that I'm not going to worry about chapter length with this story from here on out. If the chapters are short, they're short, and if they're long, they're long. A story should always focus on quality, not quantity, and...okay, the quality of this story isn't that great either but still XD Worrying about writing long chapters is causing more stress than I need and the length isn't even important. The story is the important thing.

Also, I've been working on an illustration of my interpretation of Rally for the last week or so. It's coming along very slowly, but I'm hoping to post it soon. So keep checking my DA.


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